“I hate washin’,” returned Rosy, with so much sincerity in her tone that it was impossible to doubt her.
“She’s probably forgotten about taking baths,” whispered Paul. “She’ll be all right when she’s found.”
“I don’t see how she’s ever going to be found,” said Dulcie, with a sigh, “if she can’t remember the least little thing. I’m afraid we’ll have to give it up.”
“Oh, I say, that’s an awful shame!” cried Paul. “Maybe she’ll begin to remember in a few minutes.”
“Maybe I will,” said Rosy, hopefully. “I want to go to that nice place, anyhow. Let’s come right along. It’s cold walkin’ so slow.”
Dulcie clasped her hands in dismay.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said, tragically. “We’ve raised her hopes, and we’ll have to disappoint her. Oh, I wish we hadn’t spoken to her at all.”
“I’ll tell you what we might do,” exclaimed Molly, with a sudden inspiration. “Get her to take us home with her, and talk to the person she thinks is her mother. Maybe she’ll confess.”
“Oh, Molly, we couldn’t. What would Grandma and Aunt Julia say?”
“I don’t see that it matters what they say, if we are going to help a stolen child find her family,” said Paul. “They’ll be proud of us afterwards, especially if we get a big reward. Why, we might even be talked about in the newspaper.”